


infinite questions between you and I

by unkahii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Triangles, Pining, lots of confused feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unkahii/pseuds/unkahii
Summary: best friends. and then there’s the rule that states you should never kiss your best friend. complicated emotions that never got the chance to be untangled once. there exist infinite (unanswered) questions between you and the two of them. what you long for is sometimes within your reach, and sometimes not
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	infinite questions between you and I

Bated breath. And when the ball touches the floor on Seijoh’s side of the court, finally heartbreak. The sigh leaks out of your body, like all adrenaline, enthusiasm does, and you can feel the heavy weight make contact with your heart that now seems to be made out of mere glass; and it shatters into a thousand pieces. You’ve always loved your school. You’ve loved your school, you’ve loved the volleyball team, the boys, your friends, but _most of all_ , you’ve loved Oikawa Tooru. 

With you and him, it’s a long story. You’ve seen the cracks forming underneath pearl sheen surfaces, noticed the clenching of fists that went unnoticed by most, if not all, the hanging-off-the-hinges moments, felt your and his laughter morphing to curses and tears at the end of matches in post-loss frustration.

Elementary

Kitagawa Daiichi 

Kageyama Tobio 

Ushijima Wakatoshi 

You’ve seen it all, loved it all. And now in the second the ball bounces off and makes contact with the floor of the court, the End is suddenly standing at your door, barking at you to pack up and get out. 

Spring comes early that year. 

When laughter fades and the still air is all that stands between the five of you, the weight of the end–its steely, gloomy weight returns to your hearts. Volleyball has always been intricately intertwined with all of your existences, and Seijoh, _your dear Seijoh_ , despite being a winner, had never won anything at all. It hurts you and it hurts them too when you think of that. Accompanying the honey-lemon flavoured nostalgic memories, the curious excitement for what life’s waiting with, there’s that. 

“So, is this the end?” Makki says, almost to himself, but since it’s out loud you know that it shares the nature of a sigh. Tired proclamation. Voices arise in response, you smile sadly yourself. But Tooru’s voice is what sticks out as the odd one. 

“Come on, we’re just getting started. There’s so much to do!” 

And the rest four of you can only be gladdened by that response, because as sad as you are, Oikawa’s words come as an optimistic change. Now conversation unfolds and talk again blossoms, the silence vanishes. Somewhere Iwaizumi mentions about Irvine, and Mattsun is quick to jump in. 

“Ah, won’t you miss your girlfriend then?” 

You can feel heat collecting in the apples of your cheek, and the still lingering coldness in the air perhaps worsens it. The fact that you’re standing next to him too additionally flusters you. Iwaizumi loudly coughs before replying gruffly-

“I-I it’s nothing like that, don’t you get it?” But the embarrassment on his face gives the truth away. “Honestly, I’d miss all of you.”

“But,” Makki adds in a singsong voice, “you’d miss Y/n the most. And mate, we _know_ -we know it’s _everything_ like that.”  
  
The smirk plastered to his face is so purely goofy that you can’t help but burst out giggling. Iwaizumi sighs and gives up and turning sideways you meet his gaze—still very familiarly warm like you have always known, and honest and sincere, everything that makes Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi. 

“Ok! Ladies and gentlemen! We can keep that for later,” Mattsun now breaks in, causing you to look away, heat on your faces but sheepish smiles on your lips. “And Oikawa, it’s Argentina for you. Care to spare some parting thoughts?” 

For now everything feels so emotionally surreal, that you can spot a part of you, nodding head, aware that all of this will be very dearly missed. This tiny group of yours, all of them — so very precious. Without just one you’d be absolutely incomplete. The more you think and thoughts of the distances that are about to be put between the five of you form in your mind, the sadder you feel. Oikawa stands opposite to you, and you can see the same emotions as yours reflected in the chocolate of his eyes. Sadness, nostalgia, gratefulness and in a tiny corner, heartbreak. The heartbreak that’s bound to come with letting go of Seijoh. 

“Cheer for me,” Oikawa tells after a lot of thought and your chest warms up with pride upon hearing that. 

“Obviously,” you’re the first to respond. Makki and Mattsun, shrugging, add on their own affirmations. Iwaizumi, goes last, but with his ‘yes’ there is the threat that he must look after himself and not pull anything dumb. 

“Of course not, Iwa-chan.” 

Spring came early that year and its end too falls into that rhythm and passes by fast. Graduation day comes to an end. People leave. On your way back home you’re left alone with Oikawa, and you hear him say at the gate of your house. 

“All the best for everything ahead, Y/n.” 

You’ve loved Seijoh, you’ve loved your friends, you’ve also loved Iwaizumi Hajime so very much. But perhaps…perhaps you’ve loved Oikawa Tooru the most. 

Your counterpart, your best friend. Everybody knew, how incomplete you’d be without each other. 

And now to place a distance of 18000 kilometres and 12 hours between you and him. Can just video calls overcome the gap that is about to come about? 

You don’t know. But hoping to hold on to something, hoping to give him something as a reminder of how much he means to you, you end it with this: 

“I’ll cheer for you the loudest.” 

  
  


The wine tastes good on his tastebuds—sharp enough to keep him awake and nostalgic enough to lull him and lower the inhibitions, the worries, insecurities and blockages that hold him back. The wind from the Atlantic whips through his hairs, providing that adventurous sense of reality that he needs so very much if he were to let his thoughts wander. All conditions conducive, Oikawa thinks. He wonders. He thinks. The thoughts he has daren’t touched before. 

It’s been years. _How long? Something 7-8 right?_ You still talk with each other, and nothing could be better than that. Nonetheless, at moments like this, with wine in his system and longing for home in his heart, alone in his room, with the perfume of the last person he slept with long gone, his thoughts (and feelings) ultimately return back to you. 

_“I’ll cheer for you the loudest”_

You’ve magnificently kept that promise, but that’s really expected of you. Back during high school, at the end of the first year or something, you had told him, via a smallish text that you _maybe liked Iwaizumi_. He still remembers sitting up on his bed, glee on his face at your admittance and plans to tease the hell out of you already boiling at the back of his mind. _Oh, after how much cajoling and had he finally managed to make you ‘fess up!_ And his intuition was on point as always. The very next text that arrived while he was drowning in his sense of utter victory was another smallish one— _“Please don’t tell him~!!”_

He hadn’t. Like you, like a good friend, he magnificently kept his word and watched as Iwaizumi had joined you on the rooftop after school one day, and watched you confess yourself. 

Iwaizumi reciprocated. And he felt glad. And proud. He was your best friend after all. 

The volleyball club _loved_ to tease you guys. It was _hilarious_ to watch! (Although none of his independent attempts had worked very well in bringing about successful laughs). With Makki and Mattsun in the stead, your entire love story with Iwaizumi was mapped, carefully documented and during the breaks in practice, very comically elucidated much to Iwaizumi’s chagrin and your embarrassed amusement. 

But all, including him, were always of the serious opinion that you looked good together. You suited each other. If Iwaizumi perhaps was the dad of the team, you’d be the mom, someone had joked back in the day. With the number of times Oikawa himself had been told off by both of you in a week, he still agrees, that it couldn’t be truer. 

And it was supposed to be ok. _He_ was supposed to go along with this selfless happiness at seeing love blossom between you and Iwaizumi.

As the walks you used to take back home with him grew fewer, because you started to choose to take detours to the coffee shop or the store with Iwaizumi, he was still supposed to feel _‘this is ok’_. And perhaps the sadness he used to feel upon noticing the dwindling time that you were together was merely because he missed spending time with his best friend and not anything else. And upon catching glimpse of your hand slipping quietly into Iwaizumi’s he wasn’t supposed to feel that sharp pang of pain, that was actually envy disguised as melancholy. _No, he wasn’t supposed to feel all that_. He isn’t supposed to be thinking all this! But alcohol his friend tonight, pushes him along. And he lets his thoughts meander still, into territories that aren’t lit, and by places that he shouldn’t stop at. 

Because at the end they will all end up making him sadder. 

_“Ah yes, Iwaizumi, we know! How much you are in loveeee~ with each other.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“Oh, L/n, do you not love him then? Tell us! Is Iwaizumi Hajime perhaps not being a good boyfriend?”_

_You roll your eyes, tired but slightly endearing smile on your face. These jokes, courtesy of Makki, despite being awfully repetitive by now, are still strangely enjoyed by the people in general and you really don’t know why. Unlike Iwaizumi, you choose not to react fierily, and instead settle on the comeback that floats into your mind._

_“You can come spy on us and check out for yourself?”_

_Hoots rise into the air. You are the junior’s favourite senior for a reason. It’s just-for-shits fun, except the fact that you actually are dating Iwaizumi and you actually do go on dates. And that colour of reality in all the nonsense, the cold truth (why does it feel cold even) in the warmth is what manages to_ **_piss_ ** _him off. Well, to hell with what he should be feeling and what he shouldn’t be. Feelings are feelings, and right now, seeing everyone ship you and Iwaizumi as a couple doesn’t feel good._

_Even if he was the only one who had cheered you on at first._

_“OK! Enough chit chat guys. Get back to practice,” he calls out from his quiet corner, and relieved he watches as the attention diverts towards him. His head hurts. His heart hurts and he doesn’t know why. In silence, questions whispered into the air do not find the person that holds all these answers or any of them._

Now that he thinks back, it does make sense why they shipped Iwaizumi and you, and not you and him. They must have seen that what existed between the both of you was already too strong a love that its definition has long been etched into stone and locked under layers of feelings, paddings of other constructs; it wasn’t possible to reconstruct and redefine it. You were best friends, you loved each other, shared a form of intensity that could only defined in the language of love between you and Oikawa. Compared to your potential friends-to-lovers development with the stakes involved being too high, a fresh romance, on a clean slate seemed way better. 

And of course, why not? Iwaizumi…is overall the better guy here. 

With the distance and the time, what has become of you and Iwaizumi, Oikawa exactly doesn’t know. As much as he does know, says that it’s obviously not what it used to be, just like what is expected. _A highschool romance continuing well into adulthood despite the people involved being placed at entirely different continents? Fat chance_. However, he shouldn’t get his hopes up of course, that should be the rational decision. 

But with the alcohol rising in his veins, and the winds from the sea getting fiercer, he tends to think that a little more gamble wouldn’t perhaps hurt. And so closing his eyes, he lets himself fall back onto the bed. 

After a long time, his head hurts, his heart hurts again and he doesn’t know why. Unlike before, though, he allows himself the opportunity of wondering something he has long long wanted to wonder. In the darkness behind his closed eyelids, Oikawa wonders what it would feel like to kiss his best friend. What it would feel like to have your lips melting together. 

Shudders—because it doesn’t feel right. (It’s almost like…doing something so utterly horrible that it cannot be thought of) 

Or is it. 

Alcohol in his veins, in his mind—sadness has lived past the years. The sadness he started feeling when he saw you leaning in to press a kiss on Iwaizumi’s cheek. His fists clench around the bedsheet at this thought. Feelings are feelings, what can be done? And like how he has allowed the melancholy, he allows the intensification of the distress too (although truthfully, he would never end up speaking of it to any soul and let it bottle up inside like so many other things). His heart protests because it’s all in vain, but he still does it. 

_Wonders what it would feel like to kiss you._

  
  


“Y’know about L/n and Iwaizumi?” 

“Hmm…” 

“What’s up with them?” 

Matsukawa Issei leans back on his seat, the beer can in his hand now open and ready to be poured into his system. Hanamaki Takahiro on the other hand, chooses not to touch his drink right now, and instead eyes his partner carefully, who takes a slow sip and then looking up, stares into vacant space. 

“I don’t know really. The last I heard was that they’re still in touch.” 

Curiosity wishes to get the better of Makki, and he’s almost about to press for further information, but one glance at Mattsun’s expression tells him that it’s as much a mystery to the other as it is to him. Once you’re out of school and adulthood rolls into your life inevitably, the nature of priorities change. And feelings and emotions that used to live in the past of schooldays often stay in the past, as memories that you visit by on a nostalgic day. That’s what _his_ experience states. Teenage romances surviving past graduation through the miles of real and tangible physical distance, is a tough call. 

The practical conclusion is that nothing remains (other than friendly camaraderie) between his friends, but truth is, curiosity fancies a little probing. 

_Did it survive?_

_Along with curiosity, half a heart of concern._

“Ah I see,” Makki replies. 

Mattsun however puts in a questioning glance towards him, visibly surprised that no more questions came. But at a corner of his mind, he understands the other’s reasoning and so he puts this topic off. _To speculate on something, one has zero idea about is the closest to fruitless_. 

The next thought that arises in Matsukawa’s head however is a tad-bit unexpected, something that can also be classified as _forbidden_ in some weird, twisted way. However, truthfully it’s more so in the nature of _unsaid_ things—things that have been wondered of before, but never expressed. 

“Hey, have you ever thought of L/n and Oikawa?” 

Makki, who has finally picked up his own beer, whips his head to the side, brows furrowed, and a fake-scandalous expression on his face. One which is _so fake_ that he immediately decides to drop it upon seeing the sceptical look on his friend. Combing through his memories he tries to pinpoint the source of familiarity that arises in his mind upon hearing this — honestly speaking, it’s _not_ something he’s _never_ thought about really.

(And that’s considering the fact that he totally gets Mattsun’s connotation in this case) 

“L/n and Oikawa huh? Y’know if you think about it the three of them had a complicated relationship. Or not really complicated, but ugh…. _too many_ things there I think.” 

“I know right.” 

(The connotation implies **_romance_** and not friendship. Between you and Oikawa, apparently nothing but best friends.) 

“They were intense.” Makki shakes his head. “Like they understood each other way too well. And we played in the same darn team for three years.” 

“Intense is one way to describe it I think,” Mattsun goes on. “It’s more like…they cared for each other a lot and just _got_ each other. But…perhaps it’s just me…but there _was_ something. I dunno how to describe it. Spark? Fire? I dunno.” 

“Mate, it’s understandable. Both of them were complicated. Them and their feelings and what not,” Makki says and adds hastily, as a reminder, “Really cool people, but complex. You know what, sometimes I think that….” 

His voice trails away. In the silence left behind, what has been about to fall off his tongue echoes in the blank space in his mind and the possible impact and severity of the statement, especially in the light that they have been discussing the viability of your relationship with Iwaizumi just a little while ago, is serious. So, he bites back—the words need to be carefully arranged, as if what he’s dealing with is china pottery or porcelain—one misstep, and one careless touch, a fragile thing will find its death immediately. 

(Or something clean be defiled. He doesn’t wanna classify it as forbidden yet.) 

“Think what?” Mattsun repeats. “Is it what I think it is?” he asks, face solemn. 

“Perhaps Oikawa and L/n would have gone better together y’know. We were all about L/n and Iwaizumi back during highschool, but now that I think about it…” 

And his voice fades again and this time he ends up smiling. A laugh breaking out of his chest. Really, these are all mere speculations about the lives of his friends and pretty wild ones at that. Thinking closely, there’s no point of discussing these. 

“Ah come on, let’s drop this topic. We’re thinking too much about anyways. We should think of getting people to date ourselves!” Mattsun too joins in. “We’re getting old, no one would want to marry us.” 

On the screen the match is about to start, probably when you’ll come over, you’ll be mad that they opened the beers without you already. And as expected that happens. One minute to go before the match you burst in through the door, face shining with sweat and the bag dangling from your hand. 

“Oh you made it in the nick of time!” Makki looks over his shoulder and calls out to you. “The match’s about to start.” 

“And you opened the beers without me?! Geez”

“Haha. We’ve saved for you though.” 

You settle down, snatch the bucket of popcorn away from Mattsun. Blue and white on your forms. Argentina. None of you have forgotten your promise. 

“Shame Hajime remains so busy these days,” you hum. Smirks are exchanged between the two of them, and you, just like the highschool days, roll your eyes at their antics. 

“So! Are we ready for it guys?!” Straightening in his seat, Makki sits upright and the whistle blows at the same time. 

_Of course, you’d reply, after all, you gotta cheer the loudest for Oika_ wa. 

(If asked, neither Hanamaki Takahiro nor Matsukawa Issei will be able to reply to this question: 

would they ultimately want to see you ending up with the obvious choice that is Iwaizumi?

Or not?)

  
  


Now that he thinks carefully, the closest to being in love for Iwaizumi Hajime had been with you. Yes, through the days in college he has had his fair share of romances that in hindsight can only be termed as flings. _But love_? If a name comes to mind it’s yours. 

Although funnily enough, what he is calling as being in love was something that happened ages ago back during highschool, but somehow the tenderness of everything associated with it still stays wide awake in his heart and just a deep breath in and closing his eyes, Iwaizumi can picture it all in vivid detail. 

After highschool, with the distance and all, it unfortunately collapsed into a coma for a while, but as the years moved on further, and certain things began to make better sense to him than they had before, and your contact was reinstated anew, those emotions that previously collapsed to silence for a turbulent while, returned back. And right now, it makes him wholeheartedly smile because everything suddenly seems to be making sense again. 

And so, he takes the walk along the foggy memory lane, and with the intoxicating vanilla scent he always ends up associating with time with you blanketing him, it’s a weirdly immersive experience. _Bittersweetness_. That certain experiences won’t repeat themselves again, that no matter how hard he tries, Iwaizumi won’t be able to go back to being a teenager of 17 or so, playing in Sendai Municipal Gymnasium, or practising with Seijoh, walks back home with his friends, juniors, with you. Time that still feels acutely like home, and nothing less. A sigh, and the road bends to lead to the moments in the past with you. 

He still feels so glad about agreeing to go up to the roof that day. You’ve always been super cool in your own way, and to be asked out like that?! Yes, he did take some time to think his decision through; after all putting in half-hearted effort into something like that would be unfair and a disservice to the emotions of the other person involved. But not once did (or does for that matter) he regret saying _no._ (he said yes) And truth be said, he still feels glad. So utterly glad.

You still feel like home. It hasn’t changed.  
  
Seeing you at the airport, in between all the crowd, standing along side his family and Makki and a scowl on your face cause Mattsun couldn’t come. On Iwaizumi’s lips, the smile formed before he had realised it. 

“Hajime, don’t doze off. The movie’s still going.” 

His name falls of your tongue carefully. Warmly. Even with the coating of annoyance, its presence is felt. There must be some kind of emotional sequence playing on the screen now, because the music blooming from the speakers lulls him further. The smile is sticking to his face (he knows that the next comment you’ll give him is that he looks strange smiling with his eyes closed, not even registering what’s really happening on the screen) but Iwaizumi can’t help but nuzzle his face closer into your shoulder. 

“I know,” he replies absentmindedly, before suppressing the yawn. 

You don’t wake him up, and he stays like that. Fog blossoming into the empty spaces in his head and dragging Iwaizumi down under. Under the half wakeful state, he thinks of many things. And among the quiet and nice things _suddenly a little disturbing thought_ occurs. 

_Well…_

He suddenly thinks of you and Oikawa. And well…at a point, past all the chocolate happiness, that has always been there he feels it—a sharp pang across his chest, ink that mars the colour. Perhaps it is better described as insecurity than jealousy. 

Even with you beside him, humming on to the theme song of the film, and his friend miles and miles away from this little happy bubble, he _still feels_ it. The smile drops out of his face within a few seconds of that thought occurring. 

The closest to being in love for Iwaizumi Hajime had been with you. It’s still with you. But sometimes when he thinks back to all the times, he’s seen you shed tears with Oikawa because they lost a match, the ease, the trust, the understanding and further of all, obviously _the love_ , he can’t help this feeling. This feeling that mars the rest of it and asks him to pull away because maybe…maybe he’s not just good enough. 

You just loved each other so much, even if that love wasn’t like what _this_ is. 

The thought hurts. But while he’d call what exists between you and him (holding hands on the walks back home, getting teased by the rest of the team, your tugging on his collar and pressing your lips upon his one rainy day outside the gym, movies together, dates, tenderness, cuddly warmth and **_kisses_** _)_ the campfire, what existed between you and Oikawa would be fireworks. 

Even if nobody willed for it to be so, you and Oikawa together caught the people’s eyes. They stopped to wonder, ask questions. Made them, _including him,_ think that, _yes with all that raw vulnerability, that trust-filled comfort with each other that must what love look like_. So strongly, intensely present between the two of you, interwoven into mere air, that it could be felt that you were actually living surrounded by it on all sides. 

And this is where his face falls, that’s where restlessness makes its way into his heart. 

The more he thinks the more he feels that perhaps he’s the second-best choice here after all. Wonder what you would have done if Oikawa had confessed his feelings to you instead. 

Insecurities intensify. He refrains from saying that ‘I love you’. And ultimately falls asleep even if the film is yet to end. 

  
  


_Kissing your best friend is always a bad idea._

_Acutely, painfully aware of what you’re risking but still you go forth, cross the line and take his face in your hands. Cherry blossom pink sweetness under your fingertips burns like the crackle of firecrackers. From the hesitation in his hands, you’re sure that this is something new to both of you. A gentle hitch, and your breaths warm the same air of seven-centimetre width. Once Tooru’s hands have securely settled round your waist, the hesitation flees with the onslaught of intense emotions raining onto your system. Emotions, but also fear._

_Yes, your heart shakes when your lips touch his, you feel the moisture of each other’s mouths for the first time. But after that you melt. Time melts into endlessness. The taste of vulnerability on your tongues. It’s always been too much, feelings raw and unpretty unlike what the world sees outside. And since everything that’s required for you to melt together has always been there, acceleration sets in early. The wounds open on your mouth, and you taste intense love, pulled in by your curiosity, a necessity to answer the endless questions that have existed between you and him. Them. You go on, seeking the answers to all the what ifs._

_And suddenly the taste bitters._

_You know what you’re doing here, painfully acutely aware of every movement of Tooru’s lips upon yours. You’re carefully picking up what’s so precious yet something that’s turned fragile under the effect of your questions and hurling it deliberately to the floor. Seeing it shatter, hearing the cracks making themselves at home in between. And it’s all deliberate._

_When you part, you can almost physically feel the cold wall descending, numbing your psyche to the intricacies of the relationship you share with him. Making you feel like you never want to look at him in the eye again. Leaving you with the sense of helpless painful anguish because you destroyed something that you cherished with your own hands just because of a moment’s fancy. And then sad, like broken, sodden pieces of biscuits that end up dropping to cold black caffeine and like pathetic little hopeless things lose themselves, you look away._

_You understand that kissing your best friend is always a bad idea and you promise that you’ll never ever do it._

  
  


Olympics has ended, and the offer comes from Iwaizumi—why don’t you, Oikawa and he go drinking for a night? Reunions, get-togethers, lunches and dinners have taken place in various phases, and you’ve met up on several occasions already. You’ve got the time to hang around with your best friend. The boys have had plans too, and they’ve all been met. The redundancy is perhaps getting to you, because your consent lacks in enthusiasm a tad bit. Truthfully, you’re tempted to flat out ask ‘ _why_ ’ but are held back by the thought that – who knows when Oikawa will come back to Japan again, and you’ll see him face to face. 

After a couple of years? Maybe never?

“Hmm…I might,” he hums to himself, glass tinkling as you keep it down on the counter “never come back y’know.”

“Hey, that’s not funny,” half-amusedly you reprimand, but Oikawa blows it away with a light-hearted laugh. 

“Well, I can come back when you and Iwa-chan get married maybe.” 

Strange but the alcohol’s heat on your face is not joined by anything else. Your heart tends to plummet instead, fall far into an abyss, because the thought is way too painful to bear. In his voice is a finality that’s difficult to miss, and you know that unless something big comes up, you’re never going to sit beside each other like this. 

“And what if we don’t.” This time it’s Iwaizumi. 

“Aw, Iwa-chan, but you’re going to miss me, right?”

Jokes are falling flat suddenly, and all of you smile, but the smiles fade too fast. It’s difficult to pinpoint—what in the air is causing the mood to fall sharply from cheery to stiff and cold. You’ve had too much to drink already and your reasoning doesn’t work with the most efficiency. 

But jokes and fun are no longer working doesn’t mean, you _cannot_ communicate. 

Pulled by some invisible force, your conversation takes turn to the more emotional and sombre things instead. What was Argentina _really_ like for him at the start: ripped away from everything other than volleyball and his dreams, what were his days and nights like? Slowly, slowly unfurling, one story after the other passes between you. Iwaizumi confesses about this one girl he dated back in the states who he still thinks about sometimes, albeit not romantically, but nonetheless, he adds a sincere apology to you at the end anyways. 

You don’t mind, you let him know. You tell things you’ve never imagined recounting like this yourself. The night is still young, but the evening has definitely taken a turn to a more vulnerable state. 

And in all of it…in all of it, Seijoh comes up (it was bound to), and like teenagers at the edge of seventeen or so, the three of you sigh into your glasses of alcohol. 

“We never won anything at the end.” 

“Don’t put it like that,” Iwaizumi makes an attempt at recovery, but it doesn’t work. Just like the jokes, all things happy and grateful stumble over and crash onto the floor. Way is made clear for the supressed pain; in your heart you know, that suddenly, you are sharing only each other’s sadness, seeking some helpless form of catharsis with alcohol pounding in your veins and headaches making their way over. 

“You guys were like heroes, y’know. Although tragic,” you muse. And through curtain of bokeh-effect blur that is strangely covering your eyes, you can feel Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s fond and thankful gazes. 

“Nah.” However, the former is quick to deny. “Maybe we, at least I, was probably more of the villain in a way. The anti-hero perhaps. The one standing to block the way of newly reborn crows who’s wings had previously been broken.” 

But it breaks your heart to hear him say that. “I,” you pat his arm, “would never call you a villain or even a so-called anti-hero. You were a hero Tooru. To me, to all of us. Hajime’s gonna agree.” 

‘I love you’s can be said in a variety of ways. You and him always shared your own set of expressions, verbal or otherwise, that would signify the same. If he’s allowed to, he’d like to tackle you (and _only_ you) into a hug right now and stay like that forever. His arms itch to reach out, but of course, with Iwaizumi still there so he cannot do that.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi seconds, and he mutters a low thanks into the air. 

And then silence comes again. 

You’ve already had too much to drink, you should probably stop now. They should stop even more so, because it’s much more harmful to them, than to you. You’re about to say, “guys let’s stop here” when Oikawa comes out with it. And if time has been moving at some infinitesimal speed before, it screeches violently to a halt now.

“Y/n, I love you.”

Yes, you _know_ it. It’s gentle, and saturated with care and honesty. But somehow, you also know that this _doesn’t_ carry the same meaning as the ones that have come before this. You know, and Iwaizumi perhaps knows it too, and so, you physically feel time coming to a dead, freezing stop. The glass under your fingertips, with the remnants of the golden liquid, is an alien object suddenly. His eyes rise, a little glassy, a little ghostly, but longing everywhere in the chocolate. He looks so sad. Abruptly, tears threaten to spill out of your eyes, because, oh, he looks so sad, and you love him too. But—

_What should you respond with?_

“Me too,” a non-committal string of two words. Can mean nothing or can mean everything. You watch Oikawa click his tongue in frustration, furrow his brows and ball his hands before going again, as if he has not been able to get across to you the feelings that have fermented alone inside his heart through all this time.

“I love you, Y/n. And it’s not like that!” he says brusquely. Iwaizumi shuffles on his seat on Oikawa’s other side, his profile awfully neutral. “Not like what you think it is.”

Why do you feel like smiling—you don’t know. Why does this make you innocently happy—you don’t know. Your next reply has the power to destroy what exists between you and Iwaizumi, between you and Oikawa like a blow of wind does to a mere house of cards. You don’t look twice, think twice. But utter out the words that rise to your tongue of their own accord. 

“I know. I know.” 

It doesn’t bring him peace, instead some kind of maelstrom bellows up in his form. The restraint, the calmness of the intelligent captain flees. And his suffering becomes ever more so visible. You realise that you have been so caught up Oikawa’s actions, that when Iwaizumi speaks, you notice his presence anew. 

“I was right about it all the way then. I-I-If,” his uncharacteristically stutters, “Oikawa would have confessed to you before you did to me, or before you’ve even thought of me, say, what would have done? Just asking.”

Well, it’s not a ‘just asking’ of course. You’ve all told your share of lies. What a cruel hypothesis to be stringed. You can act like you’ve been offended, you can say that ‘ _does it mean you doubt me_ ’ but you don’t, because neither of those thoughts arise in your heart. And that’s the thing that perhaps Iwaizumi knows, that’s perhaps what you would have been terrified of in more sober moments. Sitting at this dimly lit bar, with your best friend, who was suddenly confessing his romantic love to you, about to leave in his scheduled flight the day after next, with the one who’s the best described as your lover, sitting there too. The three of you, childhood friends. Each telepathically aware of what the other’s thinking at this moment. Hurt, longing, love and questions. A thousand, ten thousand, million, billion, infinity of them, spiralling into one another in between you. Multiplying over and over, a monotonic function that keeps strictly increasing. 

You don’t know what to answer with. Earlier, there was no indignation, accusation or pain in Iwaizumi’s tone. Regardless of your reply he would most accept it. Oikawa on the other hand is very slightly shivering. 

Do you tell him that during exhausted college days and festive moments at a friend’s birthday party at the izakaya, you’ve wondered what it would feel like to kiss your best friend, a thousand times too? 

Or rather infinity, because infinite is where you lose count. This time, you pride yourself on your honesty. 

“Of course, I would have never refused,” you reply. 

On looking back, you can tell that this started during the first semester of your college. When you and Iwaizumi fell into a disconnect. With life being painted with new colours, the thoughts of what _had been_ expectedly were put to the backseat. However, during every idle interstice, it was the thought of Oikawa (and _not_ Iwaizumi) that came to you first. He was the point from where it all branched out to the others; the one you’d turn to naturally if you needed help and vice versa. It’s still very difficult to put your finger on how it all came to that—how these feelings associated with Oikawa that are best described as romantic and nowhere near the category of ‘just friends’ tag, were born. 

Back then, you never stopped yourself. On nights similar to this, when you’ve had too much to drink, or on a particularly hollow afternoon, you’ve let yourself slip. There has always been an unfelt restriction, tying you back; if you were to turn around and cut down those ties, perhaps you would have successfully translated what your heart longed for, even back during middle school or so. Solace would always arrive from Oikawa for you, and you for him. Nonetheless, since you never tried, they remained as untranslatable thoughts. You never imagined that one day, at some age over 25, you’d have no choice but to admit that yes, you’ve let yourself slip once, twice, infinite times. 

_To be honest, it’s less of a question of choice, and more like…._

He looks astounded. Afterall, both of you’ve always made sure to put the ties back on yourselves once the interstices have passed and to suddenly to have them ripped…

Catharsis? Yes. 

_You cannot bring yourself to give him anything less than the truth._

And the next time you’re forced to face your own bruised feelings, is after Iwaizumi pronounces another cold hypothesis.

“You’ve always loved each other so much. Honestly, I’m a laughable replacement to him.” 

And now, Iwaizumi has left himself slip too. 

There’s again so much hurt, so much boiled up pain in his voice, and a loser’s sigh because _oh, he’s been aware of it right from the start._ Everyone has been. It’s something no one can ignore, _except_ perhaps you and him. “You were never a replacement!” you’re forced to protest, and he admits, “yes, that wasn’t the right word to use there.” 

“You were you. You…Hajime, couldn’t be replaced by someone else (implied Tooru) and he…yes, he cannot be replaced too.” 

(by him, Iwaizumi Hajime. Strangely, at the end he feels only relief because that’s something he has always _felt_ was so and now, he can finally stop fighting the ifs and buts because now, he _knows_ that it truly _is_ that way.) 

He feels relieved, but he doesn’t want to feel guilty. Once again queries, mixed with a voice of hesitation: should he be feeling guilty about this relief?

Tonight, alcohol burns down too many inhibitions. 

You decide to put off further drinking tonight. The air is leaden, and it refuses to flow, move and while the hum of many voices rise into the surrounding atmosphere, in a separate world, as if in mourning you sit. Lips sealed, and hearts no longer racing, at the bottom of a sea where no light reaches. 

None of you knows where to search for answers; you don’t know what will come down upon you if you dare rise up from your seats and move out of the bar…once the effects of alcohol are exhausted, and this daze breaks, what will you do, in the sombre aftermath of this night, with what remains between you. 

“Let’s go, guys.”

“No.”

Oikawa has already risen when Iwaizumi speaks up. You can’t distinguish the emotions in his voice, but your senses fear something that mustn’t be nice to bear. 

“What’s wrong? Is there something?” you ask softly. 

“I-Y/n, the earlier I come out of it, the better, so—”

_Why do you almost know what he’s about to say; why do you still hear understanding, acceptance and something so deeply coloured like care, among his words. There’s no anger, no hurt now. What’s there, sends an earthquake through your heart._

“—you guys go on ahead. I mean, just…it’s high time both of you get together.” 

_Why do you hear his voice almost choking at the end? Why does hurt you so much to hear him like that?_

“Iwaizumi…you don’t—” Oikawa begins but the former is quick to cut him off. 

“Yes…y’know what I mean here Oikawa. I’m gonna leave now. You go on ahead together.”

Something passes in between them, and you know, that the widening of Tooru’s eyes, is not due to anything happy or upon sensing the premonition of something good; they are half-horrified, half-worried eyes. “No,” he says. 

“Look here both of you, how long, just how fucking long are you going to keep this up? Can’t you see a simple thing? You- _ugh-_ you’re in love. Both of you shitheads are in love, so _stop_ acting like something’s gonna be ruined if you just admit that you are! Nothing’s going to be ruined. It’s painful for me too.”

Pain. Being in love. Giving in. 

Wanting to kiss your best friend. 

And at the end Iwaizumi.

“Just, so that you know,” Iwaizumi goes on, addressing both of you this time. “No need to feel guilty or stuff. This way really is the best.” 

“You can’t decide that for us,” you spit out before you can stop yourself. 

“So, do you think,” he replies bittersweetly, “you guys will ever be able to decide for yourselves if left alone? It’s been more than ten years, have you been able to decide on anything at all?”

Iwaizumi offers you a scathing smile, and all you can do is stutter in your mind, before really falling into silence. Beside you, Oikawa doesn’t move either, and Iwaizumi, after uttering a faint “see you later” disappears into the crowd and out of your sight. The seconds drone on, and you stand there quietly—everything registering, yet not. It’s just a normal Friday night, but everything ifeels so dramatically exaggerated about this moment, and you cannot deny the validity of a single exaggeration about it. 

Maybe some five or so minutes later, while your mind is still reeling, you hear Oikawa speak, voice flat. What are the exact things that this evening has managed to transfigure? 

“ _Y/n_ ,” he asks turning to you (as he has always done), “what are _we_ even supposed to do now?” 

.

.

.

  
  


.

.

.

You see them laughing, you feel the taste of cake on your tongue, and despite everything it took to come to this point, you feel guiltlessly happy. Spring has managed to come early this year too, and unlike the last spring you spent at Seijoh, this one runs longer; its sweetness is of the mature kind. 

“No, Iwa-chan I’m not taking that.” 

Of course, things have moved in the course of time. And things been put back to places. New homes have been built; new love found. Such is the nature of life—spring is transient, but like spring, happiness also comes back, things also work out. 

“Shit, it’s late, I need to get going. Y/n, see you later.” 

You see them off at the apartment’s door, which plunges into homely silence once they leave. The sun filters in through the window, the cat meows next door, lemon cheesecake, chocolate, red velvet, strawberry cakes fill the air with their flavour. It’s astonishing, how everything in your house tastes like happiness. Leaning your back against his chest, you put your head down on his shoulder. Nothing else—no words, no more actions. He leans down to place his lips upon yours. 

He has always wondered what it would feel like to kiss you; this one tastes of blackcurrent, with a hint of vanilla. 

_“Y/n, what are we even supposed to do now?”_

_“You know what, Tooru? We can settle all of this in the morning when we are not drunk. This doesn’t feel good.”_

_“Mhmm, exactly. Also…I’m really sorry—”_

_“Don’t be,” you cut across him, but your voice catches at your throat immediately after. “I-I,” you stammer, “I’m glad you brought it up. Yeah. I really am glad Tooru”_

_His gaze widens._

_Silence._

_“I’m calling Iwa-chan.”_

_“Please do. He couldn’t have gone far.”_

_“Yeah, let’s at least go home together.”_

Everyone pronounced later that the two of you were inevitable anyways; it could have never been otherwise. That night you grabbed Iwaizumi who had been waiting for a cab, made sure that the three of you went home together just like old days. 

After that things simply fell into place. What had been prevented for a long time due to your inhibitions, came into being with ease. Just like what they had said, you started feeling that it could have not been otherwise. And then few more years fled by in a rush. You chose to kiss your best friend, breaking the promise you had once made to yourself—and when his lips, shaky and careful, touched yours, nothing broke. No ice wall descended. But like undoing the bandages on wounds, you kissed each other over and over, careful and gentle. 

Like how you do now. Your head is on Oikawa’s shoulder, he bends his head to look at your face; your noses touch, your cake-flavored breaths mix into the air between your mouths. This silence wishes to be savoured, celebrated, so you do so, by holding each other close. Infinite questions still exist between you and him, but you let them be and join your mouth to his again. 

“Y/n, I’m so thankful to have you like this,” he blurts out sappily. Turning around, so that you’re facing him, you reply—

“I mean. I’ve finally realised this Tooru,” you explain, “if not you, then who.”

Teardrops at the corner of your eyes. Cherry-blossom spring hugging your happiness tight. You can’t help but kiss him again. Again, and again and again. 

Love between you and him has always tasted fine. 

  
  



End file.
